


Little Things

by louciferish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Babies, Communal Child Rearing, Domestic, Hasetsu, Ice Skating, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Victor Nikiforov, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Surrogacy, Twins, first errands, mild body image content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish
Summary: After retiring, Victor and Yuuri buy a home in Hasetsu and set about building a family—with a lot of help from the family they already have.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 51
Kudos: 197





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elo_ole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elo_ole/gifts).



> A few months back, I did a giveaway on Twitter in honor of "By Chance One Turns" hitting 500 kudos. elo_ole was my winner for the custom fic prize and requested a story with Victor and Yuuri raising twins :) They also get credit for the twins' names. I hope you like it!
> 
> The idea of Victuuri having kids through a combination of donation and surrogacy from their friends and relatives is one I've thought about for a while, so this gave me an excuse to finally mess with that :D I donated eggs myself some years back, so it's a process I have a lot of first-hand knowledge of. As far as I know, surrogacy isn't actually legal in real-world Japan, but then neither is same-sex marriage, so we're smudging some lines here.
> 
> Fun fact: two-time US National Champion Alysa Liu and all four of her siblings were apparently born through a combination of egg donors and surrogates. The future!
> 
> Many thanks to De_Mimsy for doing a quick beta on this last night while I watched figure skating and drank tea~

A shrill wail pierces the darkness, shattering the lovely dream Victor was having into a thousand shards of delicate glass. He gropes for the pieces, trying to remember what was real and what imagined, but it slips from his grasp. Beside him, Yuuri groans, and the mattress shifts beneath his side as Makkachin leaps from the bed, padding off down the hallway like an advance guard. 

Victor keeps his eyes shut, hoping the cry will stop, but then a second voice joins the first. This one is clearly _outraged_ at being so rudely awakened. Victor can sympathize.

“Both of them again,” Yuuri grumbles.

“We’ve made a huge mistake.” Victor opens his eyes. Amidst the darkness of their bedroom, the light on the baby monitor is blinding. Beside it on the table, an alarm clock proclaims the time as 1:38 A.M. “I’ve changed my mind, Yuuri. Let’s return them.”

“We survived having puppies. We can survive this too.” Yuuri’s voice is laced with grim determination. He sounds like he’s in eighth place going into a free program and ready to throw out all the stops. As he rolls to the edge of the bed and levers himself up, he adds, “Besides, who on Earth would take them?”

It’s a very good point, though at the moment Victor is too exhausted to think of it himself. They’ve only been home from the hospital for a few days—well within the return period for a big purchase—and the first night, being woken by the twin cries of _their babies_ had seemed like a beautiful dream all its own. They had turned to each other in bed and smiled, clasping hands and dancing on a cloud of elation at having their family home and whole. 

After two more days of constant fretting, feeding, diapering, and wildly inconsistent sleep, the whole ordeal feels far from dreamlike, aside from the moments where Victor falls asleep at his desk, delirious from exhaustion.

Yuuri is up now, and that means Victor has to be too. Eyes closed, he pushes the warm sheets away and stands, reaching out to accept the robe Yuuri is offering. It’s technically Yuuri’s turn to get up, but the turn system is only valid if one baby cries and the other, miraculously, continues to sleep. So far, that condition has been met precisely never.

The hardwood floors are cool under Victor’s bare feet as he slips into his robe, then follows Yuuri down the hall. Outside the window, their happy little porch light illuminates a single sapling cherry tree in their front yard. They’d planted it the day they moved in, many months ago, and though it’s barely grown since, it’s so laden with blooms that it lists to one side, like a spring edition of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. Aside from the gardening, they haven’t needed to do much to the house. The elderly couple who owned it before had bought it new and kept it in wonderful condition through the years, but they were all too happy to sell and downsize when it meant new young families moving to Hasetsu.

Still, the house is old, and the floor creaks under their steps. Makkachin, standing at the nursery door, turns when she hears them approach. She’s wagging her tail, but her ears are back, and she whines, clearly begging them, _Please fix this!_ Makka may have only been a big sister for a few days, but she’s a natural. It makes sense—she was always distressed to see Victor cry, too. 

When Yuuri pushes open the door, Makka is the first one inside, and she circles the room, checking on each crib in turn. 

“Shhhh,” Victor whispers as he leans over the edge of Kiryuu’s cradle. The baby’s face is red and scrunched, the little patch of dark brown hair atop his head standing up like a Kewpie doll. He’s far past shushing, but Victor can’t help it—it’s pure instinct to make soothing sounds when faced with a crying infant. Across the room, he can hear Yuuri making similar cooing noises as he lifts Kira from her bed. 

Victor’s still learning how to handle a newborn, nervous about touching their frail little bodies, but he’s adapting faster than he thought possible. He picks Kiryuu up gently, cradling his fragile head in one hand, and folds the baby into his arms. 

He and Yuuri have each developed preferences already in how they soothe the twins. Victor has fallen in love with the rocking chair by the window, and he settles into its plush cushions, cradling Kiryuu close and pushing with his toes to start the slow rock of the old, high-backed chair. 

Yuuri, meanwhile, prefers a jiggle-and-pace method, lightly bouncing on his toes as he walks back and forth the length of the nursery, Kira held upright with her head clasped over his heartbeat. He hums snatches of songs here and there, and Victor thinks he catches a few bars of “Poker Face” before Yuuri also notices what it is and switches to a more traditional lullaby.

First Kiryuu’s, then Kira’s cries begin to dim, muting from a wail to a grunting sort of sniffle, then at last quiet. Victor continues rocking in his chair, smiling down as his son’s scrunched face begins to relax, eyes falling closed. His eyelids are almost transparent even in the near-darkness of the nursery, fanned by the longest dark lashes Victor’s seen outside of a salon. Is he jealous of an infant for that? Perhaps, but at least he knows Kiryuu got some of his genes from _him_. He can take a little credit.

Across the room, Yuuri’s frantic bouncing has calmed to a sedate walk. Kira, too, has drifted off to dreamland, her head pillowed against Yuuri’s collarbone and her little lips pursed, suckling in her sleep. With a huff, even Makkachin settles down, back legs splayed out and chin nestled against the soft, pastel rainbow rug. A strange peace settles over the room, and the sense of unreality Victor had before returns in full force.

It’s hard to believe they’re really here now. It had taken so much work, so much collaboration to make this all come together—nearly two full years of planning, and longer if Victor counts the time they spent daydreaming and whispering to one another about the future while on the road for competitions or huddled together beneath a kotatsu in St. Petersburg. 

There are always complications involved in making a baby, but Victor and Yuuri had even more than average. It had taken months of preparation and treatments for Mari to be able to donate eggs, for starters. She’d had to give up cigarettes and inject herself with hormones, and to this day Victor isn’t sure which of those made her grouchier. She’d been swollen and snippy, yelling at them often even when it meant calling halfway around the world and waking them at two in the morning to complain that the whole experience was “too damn close to pregnancy, you liars.”

When Mari’s contribution was finally over, they’d needed a surrogate too—someone younger than Mari, someone who had carried a successful pregnancy before. It was Yuuko, actually, who called _them_. Word got around the village fast, between Hiroko’s tongue and Minako’s, and soon everyone knew why Mari was even more sullen than usual—and that Victor and Yuuri would need even more help soon. 

_”I know it’s a lot of work,” Yuuko said solemnly, holding each of their hands in her own. “But I’ve been through this before, and I know exactly what I’m in for. I talked about it with Takeshi, and we’re in full agreement—the whole Nishigori family supports you, and there’s no limit to what that means!”_

Of course, when the doctors checked in for the first sonogram and found not one but _two_ heartbeats, Victor and Yuuri had been completely floored—they’d barely even begun to hope for one baby!—but Yuuko had only laughed with delight, as if twins were no work at all.

The design of this nursery, too, was a family affair. Every time Victor looks around the room, he sees something a friend or relative contributed: the curtains Yuuko picked out, the bookshelf Toshiya built for the corner, or the identical teddy bears Chris sent from Switzerland, with their yellow and lavender ribbons. He can still envision Hiroko and Minako flopped on the nursery floor, dual wielding screwdrivers and wrenches, with the cribs nothing more than a pile of parts on the floor around them. Yuuko, swollen like a balloon, would lean up against the wall, supervising the operation with a roast sweet potato Mari cooked for her cooling in one hand. 

Victor may be a three-time Olympian, but he can’t imagine how he and Yuuri could possibly have assembled their little family without the wealth of support they have in Hasetsu. It truly takes a village behind the scenes, everyone working together to make it possible that Victor can have this: a soft, warm bundle in his lap, breathing out the scent of sweet milk while making tiny suckling sounds in his sleep; Makka stretched out on the floor, relaxed in the face of all this chaos; and Yuuri—Yuuri in the predawn light, cradling their daughter’s head in his hands, eyes closed as he quietly hums a tune Victor doesn’t yet recognize.

This life is like nothing Victor ever imagined for himself in his twenties, alone with his career and his waning passions. It’s unexpected and fragile. It’s perfect and beautiful. It’s the best surprise the universe has ever given him, and he wouldn’t trade it for a thousand gold medals. 

-

“You remember what you’re getting?” Yuuri asks, kneeling to adjust Kiryuu’s scarf so it doesn’t cover quite so much of his face. The poor boy is little more than a pair of big brown eyes and a whisp of dark hair poking out of his winter clothes. Victor and Yuuri may have overdone this; it’s only 13* out, after all. 

“Satsuma,” Kiryuu answers solemnly.

“And candy,” Kira whispers, her blue eyes sparkling. 

“Candy if you have money leftover,” Yuuri agrees, smiling as he zips the last few centimeters of her jacket. As soon as he stands up, she yanks it open behind his back, and Victor has to hide his smile behind his hand, knowing he shouldn’t encourage her. 

“Do you know the way to the market?” Victor prompts the twins while Yuuri digs out money to give them. He’s taking out far more than enough for the oranges, guaranteeing the twins will come waddling home with more sweets than either of them can eat. Sneaky Yuuri, probably hoping to get some sugar for himself.

“That way,” Kira says, pointing vaguely in the right direction. 

Kiryuu pops his fingers out of his mouth long enough to add, “By the park!” 

That’s not… entirely correct, but before Victor can explain, Yuuri shushes him with a calm, confident glance. “If you get lost or confused, just ask someone nearby for help, okay?”

Both the kids nod, and Yuuri passes them each a bit of money before opening the door. The cool sea breeze sweeps in. Beyond their front steps and the garden wall, Victor can see the wide, cloudless blue sky of a whole world: a whole world his _babies_ are now stepping into without him. 

Kira takes Kiryuu’s hand in hers, eager to go, and practically hauls him onto the steps after her. They take the two steps down in tandem, and then they’re on the sidewalk. Before Victor can call out another goodbye, Yuuri gently shuts the door.

“Are you sure they’re ready?” Victor asks, still whispering as if the kids may overhear his worries. “They’re only three, and it _is_ winter. Maybe we should have waited for spring, or next year, when—” 

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand, holding it in both of his. He smiles gently, soothing his husband’s nerves with soft sweeping motions, his thumb tracing the bones of Victor’s hand beneath his skin. “Next year they’ll be starting pre-school,” Yuuri reminds him, “and walking by themselves. We picked this day so we could both be here to say goodbye _and_ hello, remember?”

Victor nods, then breaks, shaking his head. “How is it you’re the one so calm this time?”

“I did a first errand at their age too, remember?” How could Victor forget? Hiroko has shown him the home videoes several times. They’re adorable. “They’ll be perfectly fine. Hasetsu is safe, and everyone knows them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Stepping in, Victor lets his husband support him, stooping to rest his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri meets the need with no hesitation, wrapping Victor in his arms and rubbing his back. They stay like that for a long, quiet moment—long enough for Victor’s body to itch for movement, though his mind still wants the comfort. Yuuri’s phone buzzes, interrupting them, and he pulls it from his pocket to check the message.

“It’s Hamada-san,” he says. “The twins just passed her house, and Kira left her scarf on the bush out front. She’ll send her son to bring it back to us later tonight.” 

“Of course,” Victor murmurs. Hamada-san lives two houses down from them. He’s surprised Kira’s scarf made it even that far. Taking Yuuri’s free hand, Victor tugs his husband over to their sofa to sit. He arranges Yuuri just as he wants him, fussing and making a show of getting Yuuri’s arms and legs just right, even pretending to fluff Yuuri’s chest like a pillow, until Yuuri huffs and swats his hands away. 

They curl together once Victor is satisfied, and he tucks his head beneath Yuuri’s chin so he can read the texts as they come in. Minako sees the twins at the park. Yume-chan runs home to tell her mother that Kiryuu asked her for directions by the school. Tanaka-san passed them while walking his dog, and they were just arriving at the market. Victor follows the updates eagerly, pulling Yuuri’s phone from his hand to try to read the messages himself, though his reading skills in Japanese still leave much to be desired. 

Between texts, Yuuri tries to distract him with kisses, and it’s easy as ever to get drawn in, arching into the gentle brush of lips on Victor’s neck that always makes sparks fly. But then the phone buzzes again, and Victor pulls away, snatching the device from Yuuri’s hands. 

“The honeymoon is over,” Yuuri mourns, his fingers tripping along the waistband of Victor’s jeans and ghosting warmth across his skin. “This is the first time you’ve ever successfully resisted my wiles.”

“That’s not true! I resisted that night in Detroit.”

“We were sharing a room with Phichit in Detroit,” Yuuri says, his voice threaded with dismay. “There were no wiles to resist.”

 _Oops_. Victor shouldn’t have brought that one up. Yuuri had, perhaps, had more than a couple bright blue test tube shots out at the bar that night. 

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice is rising in pitch, and he scrambles to reclaim his phone from Victor’s hand. “Victor, what wiles were there in Detroit?”

Saved by the bell—or the fist. Yuuri’s increasingly frantic questions are interrupted by a quiet knock at the door, and before Yuuri can stop him Victor slips from his arms, dashing through the living area in his socks to answer. He flings open the door, eyes already pointed downward, expecting to see the sweet little faces of his children, beaming with pride.

Instead, he finds his front porch crowded with a great many faces he loves almost as much. 

“Konnichiwa, Vic-chan,” Hiroko calls out happily. She’s hoisting an overflowing bag in her arms, holding it up so high he can barely see her head peeking out over the top, and bustles right by Victor with it, making herself at home. “Satoko-chan called to tell me the twins just left the market!” 

Toshiya and Mari follow in her wake, each of them pausing to clap Victor on the shoulder as they file inside. Minako brings up the rear, struggling to unknot a few small scraps of cloth. Victor takes one from her, picking at the stubborn knot with his fingernails, and it unfurls into a purple banner that reads _Ganba, Kiryuu!_

“Did you make this today?” Victor gapes, baffled, as Minako snatches the banner from his hands, rolling it back up.

“Of course not,” Minako says. “Does it look like a rush job to you? I started making these the day they were born.”

“But… why?”

“So many milestones! First errands are just the start, because then there will be first days of school, graduations, ballet recitals, figure skating competitions…”

Victor blinks. “They’re three,” he says dumbly. “They’ve never even been on the ice—”

“They will be.” Minako’s eyes are gleaming and her tone is steel. Honestly, Victor is a little intimidated. Then, Minako flips her long brown hair back over one shoulder, smiling, and the tension dissipates. “No matter what they do or when, I want to be ready to support them.”

That’s really nice, actually. Still a bit scary, though. 

Yuuri’s head pops in from the kitchen. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, he looks frantic. “Minako-sensei, could you come help please? I think Mama brought enough katsudon ingredients to feed the whole village.”

“Oh, yes. The Nishigoris will be by after they pick the girls up from school.” She drops her banners into Yuuri’s limp hands and gently elbows him toward the front door. “Go on, then. We’ll take care of the food. The twins should be back soon!”

The fact that Yuuri looks dazed too makes Victor feel a bit better about his own state of mind. The last time everyone poured into their house like this was… three years ago, when the kids were still newborns, and he and Yuuri had needed every bit of help they could get. 

It feels like hardly any time at all has passed since he first walked through the door of their home, juggling two infant carriers that felt simultaneously heavier than any barbell and delicate as a porcelain egg, only to find the living room filled with balloons, gifts, and happy, familiar faces. 

“I love you,” Victor says suddenly, because it’s one of those times when the words just need to explode from the tip of his tongue. Yuuri still blushes a little when he hears it, and Victor hopes that will never change. Yuuri folds into his arms, tucking his head beneath Victor’s chin, and Victor holds onto him, inhaling the clean scent of his apricot shampoo.

Behind them, the front door creaks open, and Victor drops Yuuri like a hot potato. Kiryuu and Kira are standing side by side on the front stoop, Kiryuu with a bag of three satsumas in his arms, and Kira juggling two bags of sweets and a box of cookies. There’s a pocky stick dangling from between her lips like an unlit cigarette. 

Kiryuu hefts the satsumas and grins brightly. “Papa, tou-chan, we did it!”

“You _did_ ,” Yuuri exclaims, and drops to his knees on the hardwood floor. Victor is right beside him, only a beat behind, and they both wrap their babies into a big family hug. 

“We’re so proud of you,” Victor says as he showers each of their little heads with kisses. “You’re growing up so fast—” To his surprise, his voice cracks on the last word. It’s true, god. His babies aren’t babies anymore, but little independent people. 

When he looks up, he meets Yuuri’s eyes and finds tears welling amidst the brown, too. Victor smiles, sloppy, and wipes at Yuuri’s face, then at his own. They’re being ridiculous, of course. The twins haven’t even started pre-school yet, but now Victor can see how quickly the days will fly past. In no time at all, they’ll be grown, finishing high school, leaving. 

He holds them tighter, as long as he can, until they squirm away, smelling katsudon and calling out happily to their grandparents. Then, Victor takes Yuuri’s hands in his instead, and they help each other to stand back up.

-

Victor stands sideways to the mirror and smoothes down the pink and white fabric covering his stomach. Scowling, he tugs at the hem. It’s _not_ just his imagination; his costume is tighter. 

Yuuri, resplendent in blue, catches his eye in the mirror. “Don’t you dare fuss,” he says. “You look wonderful, and if you won’t let me get away with picking at myself, then you aren’t allowed to do it either.”

That’s… fair. Victor’s always the one telling Yuuri to be kinder to himself, to remember that he’s in his _mid_ -thirties now, retired, a father, and of course with all that his body isn’t the same as it was at twenty-three. For Victor, who will soon be turning twenty-nine for the tenth time, it’s still a struggle to remember that those same standards he set for Yuuri must _also_ apply to him. 

Really, it’s not as if he looks _bad_ for… twenty-nine. He still has most of his hair, despite Yurio’s claims to the contrary. Those extra inches around his waist are simply a sign of a man who is well cared for by his husband—and his mother-in-law, and his friends, and his husband’s childhood ballet teacher, and—

Well, it’s a big family. Victor had always wanted a big family.

No matter what he thinks of the fit, his duetto costume _is_ on, while Yuuri is still wrestling with the last few touches on his. Knowing Yuuri won’t be in the mood for help with that fight, Victor drops a kiss on his cheek, then excuses himself from the locker room. 

The roar of the crowd echoes through the narrow halls. It’s his tenth year hosting _Victor and Friends_ at the Ice Castle, and the tickets sell out faster every year. Rumors are circulating this season that Yurio will be retiring soon—a ridiculous piece of fiction, as far as Victor knows, but a rumor nonetheless—and that, plus the addition of a few younger, newly-popular Japanese skaters to the lineup, has pushed demand for the show higher than ever before. 

That, plus an extra special surprise Victor and Yuuri _may_ have allowed Phichit to drop into the rumor mill here and there. 

Victor finds Kiryuu and Kira on a bench in the warm-up space near the rink entrance. Kiryuu is sitting down, legs swinging well off the floor, while his sister stands on top of the bench, towering over him. They’re holding court to Chris and Phichit, who are both either enthralled by the twins’ tales or much better actors than Victor knew. Rather than interrupt the discussion, Victor hangs back, curious to see how his children talk to others when their parents aren’t around.

“And _did you know_ ,” Kira is saying, and Victor ducks his head to hide his smile, knowing what comes next, “that Earth is always spinning, so we could be upside down _right now_?” Chris and Phichit both gasp theatrically, as if Kira didn’t already recite that fact to them over Skype last week. It’s her favorite bit of trivia at the moment, so she tells _everyone_.

“Did you learn anything else exciting this year?” Phichit prompts Kiryuu, who’s staring down, fiddling with the string on the leopard print hoodie Yurio gave him.

“Not really,” he mutters. Victor winces. Kiryuu’s gotten a bit more of Yuuri’s personality as he’s grown, while Kira tends to be more like her Papa. Neither of those is a bad thing on it’s own: they’re both smart, sensitive kids who are very passionate about their interests. One is simply _much_ louder than the other about it, and sometimes that means Kiryuu can’t get a word in edgewise over his sister. 

Chris and Phichit, however, know exactly how to handle this. They exchange a quick look that speaks to the dozens of conversations they’ve had with Victor and Yuuri about the twins, and then Chris turns to Kiryuu again.

“Really?” he asks. “Because I would have sworn I heard that you guys got a new puppy this year…”

It’s the right button to push, and Kiryuu lights up, posture straightening as he looks Chris in the eyes and smiles wide. “Yes! Our puppy is named _Mochi_ , and he’s a black toy poodle! I got him for my birthday.”

“ _We_ got him for _our_ birthday,” Kira interjects. “He’s _both_ our puppy.” Kiryuu nods in agreement.

“So cute,” Phichit exclaims, defusing the potential sibling fight before it can turn into elbows and whining. “I can’t wait to meet Mochi later. Do you guys want to see my babies?”

The twins both nod, and the scene quickly transforms into pet picture sharing time, with both Chris and Phichit whipping out their phones to show the kids pictures of their own furry babies. A few minutes in, Yurio happens to pass by them on his way out—still in his costume, but with his long blonde hair freed from its braid. 

“Step aside, amateurs!” he barks, pulling out his phone. “My Potya is _clearly_ the cutest around here. She’ll kick all your pets’ as— uh, rear ends.” 

Victor watches from just out of sight with a fond smile that would absolutely make Yurio retch if he could see it. Someone taps Victor’s shoulder, and he turns to find Yuuri watching too, his smile a mirror of Victor’s own. 

Ten years together, and they’re still magnets. Victor can’t help the way he reaches for Yuuri’s hands then, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s instinct and chemistry, and that’s not all they need to make things work, but it sure as hell helps.

As they part, Yuuri’s breathy laugh still gusting over Victor’s lips, the crowd out in the rink roars again, signaling the end of Seung-gil’s performance. They’re up, and this time Victor knows they have one hell of a surprise planned for their audience. 

Hands still joined, Victor and Yuuri approach the bench and Victor grins down at the kids. “Are you ready?” Yuuri asks.

Kira hops down from the bench and then crouches, mimicking a superhero landing. She wobbles, but doesn’t fall this time. “I was _born_ ready,” she declares. 

Over her shoulder, Kiryuu merely nods, wide-eyed, and visibly swallows. Yuuri kneels down in front of him and combs his wispy brown hair back with delicate fingers. “It’s okay to be nervous,” Yuuri murmurs, “but you don’t have to be scared. Papa, Kira, and I will all be right out there with you, and you know who else?” Kiryuu shakes his head. “Oba-san and Ojii-san are watching too, and Yuuko-san, and Minako-sensei. They’re all watching, and they’re going to be _so_ proud of you, no matter what you do.” 

“Is Oba-san going to make me katsudon even if I fall down?” Kiryuu asks, voice trembling a little. 

“ _Especially_ if you fall down,” Victor promises. “Katsudon is for everybody!” 

With a deep breath, Kiryuu’s expression resolves to one of determination—another Yuuri look Victor knows all too well. It’s probably a good thing, in the long run, if Kiryuu inherited the Katsuki stubbornness too. He nods, resolute, and Yuuri reaches out for his hands, helping him to hop off the bench and onto his skate guards.

“Just like we practiced,” Victor reminds them. Then, he takes Yuuri’s hand and they step through the entrance, out onto the ice and into the center of the rink. 

The lights are pink and blue, purple where they meet in the middle, and the audience screams as always at the sight of their duetto costumes, so loud they drown out the announcer. That’s fine. Everyone here knows the Katsuki-Nikiforov name by this point. What matters is the next bit.

After a beat for the screaming to die down, the announcer calls out again, “And, making their ice show debut, Katsuki-Nikiforov Kiryuu and Katsuki-Nikiforov Kira!” The crowd roars again, and Victor and Yuuri both look back, checking to be sure the kids made it.

They’re wobbly, still learning their basics, and Victor can see where Kiryuu is squeezing his sister’s hand like a lifeline, but they’re also _adorable_ in their little purple duetto costumes, similar enough from a distance that the untrained eye wouldn’t know which was which. 

They release each other, splitting up briefly so they can pop off a few cute little waltz jumps, and the audience gasps like they’re doing quad axels. Victor can see the moment that reaction hits them, and they both perk up—seems they inherited that Nikiforov need to _show off_ too.

When the twins finally stop spinning and bouncing around long enough to skate back over to their fathers, Victor scoops up Kira, planting her on his shoulders, and Yuuri does the same with Kiryuu. 

Victor finds Yuuri’s hand again, his palm warm and familiar. Yuuri gives him a little squeeze, and Victor doesn’t need to hear the words to get the message: _I love you_.

On center ice, their children perched on their shoulders proudly, the Katsuki-Nikiforovs raise their joined hands in triumph.


End file.
